Esgalia
by FindelFlynn
Summary: Fantasy Medieval based story, focused on a particular elf and his adventures and struggles. A quest for love, for revenge, for hatred, for redemption, with the obstacles that will shape him to either choose the better fate or the worse. A turning point in his life, from being a young ruffian and rogue for too long, to someone who realises he can experience feelings and perhaps love
1. Chapter 1

Doors were too mainstream. Why use a door, when one can use a window? And that was precisely what Mister Finny did. His tattered and torn red cape swayed in the light wind that travelled lazily across the town as he speedily clambered up the rotting, old stone wall. Findel ( that was his actual name) was rather grateful for his agile and fast self. In fact, there were more assets and attributes that he should be grateful for. But more on that later. This elven rogue had a job to do. His slender fingers slotted onto the stones, continuing to hoist himself up the wall and over the window sill, away from the uncultured world below. One foot landed on the dusty floorboards inaudibly after the other, the mysterious figure concealed now in the shadows, his face half-silhouetted in the moonbeams. Downstairs, the uncultured riff-raff were making a hell of a racket. It was generally assumed that a full party in the tavern was in swing; his pointed ears twitched at the sound of sultry shrieks and sensual laughter. Perhaps, he would visit the place downstairs one time. Findel was rather stealthy, but his blonde locks did make a distraction. One could say his hair was what made him so devilishly handsome. That, and his dark pools that had the most intense stare, and which contrasted perfectly with his ruffled-messy golden hair. The dim light of the room defined his strikingly high cheek bones and only enhanced his overall appeal to both the female specimen and the male spectrum. The room that he had found himself in, he believed, was a bedroom chamber of some rich, pompous lady who was most probably overweight. An unfortunate chamber indeed. Why unfortunate? He was to 'lend' himself a few 'items.' If not for his ethereal and defiant presence, Findel would not succeed at his intentions. His intentions were neither good nor bad, they were his own. And Findel, was a character who would do what suited him the best. If not for his good looks and lithe body, Findel would not succeed in lust and love. His flirtatious mannerisms were neither good nor bad, they aided him grandly in various pursuits and predicaments. And if not for his complex and moody persona, Findel just wouldn't be Findel at all.

After he had completed his various intentions, which rendered him significantly more wealth, the elf emerged from the stairs and down to the tavern's facilities. His eyes shifted cautiously from left to right, a tense yet still overconfident demeanour held. The tavern's hall was indeed crowded, people of all different shapes and sizes filing in to the warmth, and leaving when they were beyond drunk. Findel's sensitive nose crinkled; the hall smelt of sweat, ale and old men predominantly. He manoeuvred his way around the travellers, some preoccupied in telling their tales, others gambling or failing miserably at trying to be taken to bed. Girls lay spread out across the couches, with rough hands and hairy legs spread over them. It was a sickening sight, lust at really its worse play.

"Ah, look who it is!" A shrill voice rose above all, containing that sort of happiness that Findel found immensely amusing. "Don't you just love that atmosphere, Fin?" The voice was overly happy, and had certain inflictions on the syllables which would hint that the owner of the voice, wasn't exactly straight. An Elf, of about 185cm and shorter than Findel, sauntered up to the taller elf. His deliciously chocolate brown eyes sparkled up at the blonde rogue, lips pursed and hair groomed in the most de la crème fashion possible. His wide face looked impeccable in the light as he smiled big and latched his arm tightly onto Findel's. "You must drink with me! Don't, like, just stand there. Move!" Cszeth, one could say was a very flamboyant male elf, who to Findel's dismay was almost if not more attractive than himself (but it was debateable.) In fact, Findel was convinced for one second that he indeed had questioned his own sexual orientation. But no, Fin was all girls. He now looked to Cszeth with disdain, but a rugged smirk tugged at his lips.

"I suppose you only want me to drink so I am induced enough with the beverage that I actually go to bed with you?" Findel responded, a snarky tone hinted. Cszeth instantly shook his head vigorously with unsatisfaction for his partner in crime's poor attempt at a humorous answer.

"No, you are lacking in your ability to understand! My friend – I have noticed that you are becoming increasingly lonely and that…"

Findel allowed the droning and noisy conversation of an old man with more old man drowning out Cszeth's overly-fabulous observation. In short, Cszeth's point was:

"You need to get loved and laid, Fin!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Are we there yet?"

"Does it look like it?"

"No, but my symptoms are back."

"What symptoms?"

Tor sighed with pure annoyance. How many goddamned times had he explained to that moronic-rock-loving dwarf that the symptoms appeared when he too, the moronic-rock-loving dwarf was deprived of alcohol? Too many. Tor Iddig Copperbeard was rather plump and stubbly, stocky and short in other words. His dwarvish companion, Kertat, was rather plump and stubbly, stocky and short in other words. There was almost no difference between the two, except that Tor had auburn-copper hair and Kertat had dark brown hair. Both, consequently, had glorious beards that they upheld in a haughty manner as their best attributes.

"Look! A tavern!" Kertat called to Tor merrily, as the copper-coloured hair dwarf lumbered on behind, exhausted from all the stupid walking they had to suffer through.

"Aye, I bet there be some good ol' ale in there, sweet mother of Jesus could I do with some ale!" Tor gurgled an answer, stumbling towards the tavern's loud atmosphere as Ketat hobbled along with difficulty in front. The two dwarves entered the tavern with what dignity they had left (which wasn't a considerably large amount) and placed themselves at the bar where accordingly, two elves sat adjacent to them.

Before we continue the story, one must understand that this is indeed a tavern dedicated to the riff-raff and other devious beings in the realm of Freygard, a human city occupied by races that are not human, except for a couple. A rather diverse place. The Lust Lady Tavern housed thieves, pirates, rogues, tyrants, gypsies and prostitutes, and is located in probably not the most fetching area of town. Nonetheless, those who thrived within its walls, felt welcome and at home. Unless of course you were a prisoner or hostage, which was never fun.

Tor and Kertat were not very interested or engaged in the surrounding conversations. They both merely wanted a nice, warm frothy beer that would soothed their troubled and tired minds. Dwarves are very stubborn and headstrong characters, and unlike the Elves sitting beside them or any elf for that matter, they were indignant, rude and greedy bastards. At least that is what the Elves thought. Yet if you were to befriend them, they were incessantly loyal to you. Kertat had his head drearily plonked on his forearm which rested on the table top, whilst Tor's bloodshot eyes circumnavigated the globe (or food hall) for a decent bartender, and he wasn't a very patient dwarf either. His half-closed eyes fell upon a human bartender that seemed to be talking to the two men next to them. At least that is what his alcohol deprived mind registered and concluded.

The bartender had an endearing smile as he leant over the counter to look at Findel directly, who had a spooked expression upon his face at the sudden…amiable grin?

"Did ye hear about the princess's new toy?" The bartender, Andrew was his name, questioned the two elves, cleaning a tankard with his rag.

"A new noy?" Cszeth arched one of his fabulously chocolate brown eyebrows.

"Aye. The princess gets a new toy each week. If ye ask me, she probably sends them away because she has no idea what in the blazers to do with them! You know how many suitors she's gone through, the whore?"

Findel couldn't help but chuckle, a sly grin facing the two.

"She would never find another if I stepped into her room." The blonde elf half-joked, not really. "Nay, but I hear she receives an extravagant gift each time. What's it now? Any chances I would give her the best gifts for what we have in our store is limitless." He winked to his partner, who winked back, the two knowing exactly what store in this context meant. A thieves' cave.

"I've heard…." Andrew lent in closer to a whisper, "…That it be the finest thing man's ever seen. It be the Jewel of Freygard, a sacred and priceless gem that only royals may own."

'Oh that old thing! Pfft." Cszeth cut in. As a result, Findel slammed his tankard down hard on the countertop, giving the two an expected fright.

"Silence. This jewel…Do go on.." He sipped his ale, intrigued. "This could be our next big heist."

Apart from the fact that it was the Jewel of Freygard, Findel absolutely, utterly despised royals and authorities to whatever extent he wished. Either way, it was obvious he did not like them.

"If you succeed in stealing such a noteworthy item, your reputation would increase grandly and your ticket back ho-" The bartender continued. Until yet again, interrupted.

"You will speak nothing of that place!" The sudden growl from Findel startled the two once more. Cszeth jumped in his stool and after he had recovered, placed a comforting hand on Findel's shoulder. "Mr. Bartender, that is a very sensitive topic that should not be discussed, you know? To be blunt, Finny here would slit your throat if you dared to bring it up again. I suggest you don't." Cszeth nodded sincerely, and the bartender roared with laughter while Findel fumed with aggravation.

"We're getting that damn Jewel." Findel grumbled as he had his hawk-like gaze fixated on Andrew, whose bottom lip did quiver at the sight of such a…determined and intimidating elf. Not what he would have expected, Elves were always polite and haughty, not even daring to enter places like the Lusty Lady Tavern. Findel was the opposite. The conversation was put to a halt for the time being, the patrons' noises and screams filling in the awkward gaps. "What? You think I can't do it?"

"Oh no. No sir. You just seemed a little uncomfortable." Andrew immediately answered. Findel shrugged now, casually and sighed. "I'll be more comfortable once I get my hands on that jewel." Findel said condescendingly now.

"What is this Jewel ye speaketh of?" A gruff voice came out of nowhere. Actually, it came from beside the grumpy elf's right. And to the grumpy elf's horror, it was very much his worst nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Ew ew ew, get it away from meeee! It'll stain my new, polished leather boots!" Cszeth cried with terror.

"The only thing I will be staining is ye face with ye own blood, ya sissy!" Tor growled menacingly, as Ketat looked on with a deadly stare.

"The only thing you will actually be staining is your pathetic tunic with your own cheap ale. Isn't that correct?" Gee. Findel was really being an arsehole now, a smart arsehole. He smirked at the two dwarves. 'No, seriously. What do you two shorties want?" The rogue arched an eyebrow at the dwarf with the copper beard. Dwarves and Elves do not get along and absolutely hate each other.

"I may be gay, but that doesn't mean you have an excuse to call me a sissy. That is SO rude." One could guess who said that. Findel was quite grateful for the amount of sass his dear friend possessed.

"Oh great, one sassy elf and one arsehole elf. A perfect combination, don't ye agree Kertat?"

Findel felt an urge to fuck this guy's face over with his fist. However, he took a lighter approach and grabbed a fistful of the copper beard and stood abruptly up, yanking the insolent dwarf ( to this 193cm height ) from his stool. And the only sound that was heard for the next 5 minutes was one pissed dwarf screaming his sorry head off.

"Quit your moaning!" Findel yelled right at Tor's pained face. "You dare speak of my friend again like that and I will severe your useless head myself!" He declared, perhaps a little too loudly as the whole tavern body was in complete silence, their eyes fixated on the Elf and the Dwarf.

"Then unhand me, you arrogant bastard!" Tor choked back, his voice raspy but full of hatred. Findel's hand let go of his beard suddenly, the dwarf then went crashing into the floorboards with a definite 'thud' from his backside. Findel looked down at Tor with distaste, his thumbs tucked underneath his leather belt as he towered over the little man. However, Tor would only match his hateful stare with his own, his hands balling into clenched fists. Even Cszeth and Kertat sat quietly, not daring to break the tension between the two.

"I bet an egotistical elf like you wouldn't stand a chance at gettin' that jewel." Tor challenged. "You'd be too busy worrying about yer own hair!" Tor was enjoying himself, seeing the elf glare with frustration at him. The dwarf grinned, and the tavern continued to remain in its cloak of silence.

"Perchance we strike a deal." Findel concluded after a long moment silence. "I will, personally, steal that jewel in hoping that your idiotic mind will rest knowing that Elves are far more supreme and superior to you Dwarves." Findel snickered. "Let that be your proof." Cszeth now stepped forward, an unimpressed look upon his face. "Finny, you know by doing such a task you are simply sinking down to their level." He shook his head.

"And Tor, you shouldn't of challenged that elf, he looks like trouble and nothing comes of it." Kertat reasoned wisely for a drunkard indeed.

But both Elf and Dwarf were engulfed in their own pride.

"Very well, if you succeed, I will pay my full respects to you, elf. The challenge has been accepted!" Tor shouted and picked up his mug before commencing to scull his ale. And thus, signifying that Findel had rose up to the dare.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun's rays hit the white curtains that swayed in the wind, causing the golden light to dance across the chamber. A delicate hand appeared from underneath the blanket, before it pulled away the white sheet, revealing a curvaceous and seductive body that lay there. Red locks, long and wavy fell over Miriel's slender figure with grace. One violet eye opened halfway, and a soft sigh escaped her luscious lips. The Head Guard slipped out of bed, shaking her head as her fiery hair cascaded down her smooth back. Miriel had a grand room for her position as Head Guard in Fregyard, mainly because she was also the King's ward, a step-sister to the Princess Selene. Princess Selene was compliant and quiet, whilst on the contrary, Miriel was feisty and an absolute bitch. She swayed her hips as she walked over to her closet, now taking one of the dresses from its clasp. It was a gorgeous dark blue that complimented her auburn-orange locks.

"Out, you disgusting human! How dare you enter my domain without my permission!" The maid had indeed given Miriel a shock. She had struck a nerve (like most did.) "Out with you!" Miriel scoffed after the hopeless girl had scurried off and away.

"You are as fair as they come." A low, meaningful voice echoed through her room. Standing at the entrance was Sir Thomas Hameristan, the General of Freygard's finest army and fist to Miriel. Also, he was the King's most trusted Knight in literally shining armour. He was relatively tall in height, with his dirty blonde hair neatly and piously pulled back from his large forehead into a ponytail. The grandeur of his presence was reiterated by what he was clad in. A fine, tailored red tunic with exquisite midnight blue pants and silver braces that reflected the sun's glory. He had a grin on his face, bearing his teeth at Miriel, a hand resting at his leather belt which sat his waist.

"Indeed, Sir." Miriel flashed him a playful smile. "But whom let you into my room? Was it that ghastly maid who I despise greatly?"

"No indeed," Thomas chuckled, "I let myself in to see my lovely fiancée."

Miriel in her undergarments pitter-pattered up to her lover and future-to-be-husband to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Thomas hugged her before stepping away.

"I am sorry but duty calls me to action. Today," The Knight proclaimed, "I will find those infamous thieves that call themselves Sun and Moon." Hameristan spat with displeasure. "Today these intruders to our society's peace will crumble at the hands of Sir Hameristan himself." Thomas tightened his hand into a ball and thumped the fist against his chest with a send of honour and pride. Honour and Pride were very important to Sir Thomas Hameristan.

"Your ego has been damaged indeed, my dear. No one has sighted Sun and Moon yet, they outwit you Every. Single. Time." Miriel rolled her eyes and smiled as politely as she could.

"For years I have been chasing and tracking them. Their existence is all we need to capture them and end their miserable lives. I will not give up nor rest to the filth that they are, and my men will always endeavour to do their best to catch them." Thomas began to pace outside the room with angst now, but he spoke with confidence. "I must go now, Miriel." He turned to face her. "I will return later tonight. Be well." And with that, he turned heel and dismissed himself in an orderly manner.

Miriel exhaled in disappointment. She wandered whether she would ever see that glint of affection deep within his gray orbs. She, was undoubtedly, convinced that she was in love with him, and him her. Yet something provoked her to ponder on the thought if he would ever open up to her like romance should do.

"I didn't mean to be late, Missus. I-I just had to help poor Henry out of bed. Ye see-"

"Silence!"

Miriel was standing with her hands clasped behind her back, in front of a young man or squire that was part of her squad. The naïve guard had sweat-beads forming on his head, teeth chattering as the Head Guard stared ferociously at him, no sense or hint of compassion in her gaze. She awaited for him to open his blabbering mouth once more, which he did.

"Henry jus' needed a little help, Miss. Only yesterday did he-"

"I know what he did." Miriel cut in sharply, the rest of the guards refraining from jumping out of their socks at her harsh tone.

"…he was speared in the leg." The guard completed his sentence as Miriel stared him down with disapproval. There was an awkward silence between the commander and the trainee.

"How am I supposed to train you lot if you can't even handle a little cut? A simple injury?"

Henry, the limping guard coughed comfortably. "And you!" Miriel spun on heel to penetrate her purple gaze right through the injured human. He shook with fear, quaking in his boots. "Need to toughen the fuck up and not rely on your pathetic comrade. He's got his own shit to worry about. You are all a useless group of lazy men that will never excel in fighting if you Cannot. Handle. A. Simple. TINY. Injury." Miriel gave them what for. "Now, leave. Or I will give you a punishment you will all regret. And I better not see you and Henry in particular, loitering around otherwise I really will loose it!" Miriel strode away now in a huff, storming off as she kicked Henry's sore leg.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Are you sure this is the right map?" Findel asked Cszeth as they stood on the edge of the highest point belonging to the grand castle. The highest point, was the Archer's tower, now with two dead watchmen lying on the wooden ground in their pools of mixed blood. Findel was squatting on the top of the barrier, a sheer drop below into the gardens with the rest of the fancy infrastructures below. The moon perched behind the two figures, outlining their eerie and uncertain figures. The map that Findel was holding, was drawn in the most disturbing colour of pink. Findel did not question. There was a star of yellow, surrounded by colourful dots at where the Jewel was supposedly located.

"Of course it is like, the map." Cszeth sounded offended as he stood behind Findel, arms crossed. "Why do you doubt me and my mapping skills? Like, you can TRUST me with this. And don't squat there, you'll fall off and die." He rolled his eyes. Findel shook his head.

"Alright, I trust you."

"Thank you."

Findel's blonde locks were messy, covering his dark hues as he looked down. "Well, I do need to have my nightly dose of adrenalin."

"Wait…What?"

And with that, Findel leapt off from the wooden railing, gone in a flash. The elf sailed down, down, down the steep drop, heading for the tree directly below. Except, he did not crash into the tree. Instead, Findel had swung himself around the horizontal pole of a flag, now flying towards the window that was his entrance into the castle. Findel smashed through the window in a tight-knit ball before commando rolling across the stone ground, and standing in a crouched position. He was in. His ears twitched to see if anyone had heard the glass smash. It seems so. Findel looked up now, spying a young guard (of about 15) standing in front of him with a wobbling spear pointing at the centre of his forehead.

"Evening squire. Don't mean to intrude." Findel now placed a firm hand on the end of the guard's spear. The kid's eyes shook with terror. "Don't worry, lad. I won't hurt you. In fact, I've got a little surprised for you!" He yanked the end of the spear hard, lifting the scrawny boy in the air before whacking him with great force against the stone wall. Findel didn't wish to hurt children, or young adults. Adults and old people deserved the pain. He would have killed the adults. The guard winced in pain, doubling over on the ground as pain coursed through his body and soon, he was out cold. Findel stood there for a while, a sense of guilt overcoming him for a moment. No. No time for feelings, he had a job to do and he had to survive. Findel stealthily made his way down the hallways, shrouded in the shadows. He looked down at the map, frowning, then back up, then back down again, and then back up once more. He bit his bottom lip, questioning Czeth's map slightly as he walked. Huh? What was that? Findel came to a quick halt, eyes shifty. Guards. Coming from behind him with two torches, three swords and one shield. Findel dived behind the metal soldier that was there for display, sucking in his stomach and remaining completely rigid.

"So yes, then I said to her: 'Gee, don't you look pretty darling?'" Oh god. Guard chat. Findel didn't have time for such things. The guards approached the soldier. Once the closest guard to him walked by, Findel whacked the hilt of the sword into his knee, before jumping out from behind the decoration with both of his dual swords drawn. "Boo." He grinned, going at full swing to decapitate the first guard's head successfully. The other came up from behind him once he had finished his 180 degree spin, with his sword drawn and ready to stab into Findel's back. Unfortunately, the agile elf ducked, swiping his leg out from behind him and then sending an uppercut punch up into his jaw, hearing a definite crack. The guard stumbled back, grabbing his bleeding jaw. "They really don't know how to train you lot." Findel tossed his sword into his palm, now again both blades evenly placed. He charged towards the guard, showing no mercy and gutting him through the stomach with one sword, a clean cut as he drew out the silver blade and the guard slumping forward and down to the ground. Did he bleed or did he bleed? He bled. Findel gave a little 'hmph' of satisfaction, smirking as he left the scene. He wouldn't bother hiding the bodies, Cszeth's job was to be the distraction anyhow, and he would be absolutely fine. It was important to have faith in your partner. Findel could confide in Czeth, and he didn't trust many with this business. Findel stepped lightly on the ground, his footsteps completely inaudible as he went along. The elf seemed to radiate an air of mystery, secrecy. Findel glanced down at his map, increasing the speed of his pace as he neared his target. His jewel. This was it. He was actually quite excited about this, strangely enough. It was just another heist, but this one seemed special for some unexplained reason. He didn't know why.

Findel's hand shook with anticipation as he touched the knob of the door. He did note that it was a little strange, that he had come to some grand white door. He would have thought it would be in the throne room. Maybe this was the throne room, but it was a little small. Most jewels were guarded too, so this was even odder. There were no signs of life around here, just desolate, bleak door and brown knob. Findel then jerked his hand away, taking a few steps back. What if this was a trap, an unknown…death sentence? What if he had been discovered, Sun no longer a secret? What if he had been seen by some force that alerted the guards? What if…Stop it. Too many what ifs. Just go with it, Finny. Go with it. Findel's confidence rarely faltered, it only did at weird predicaments like this. He cringed a little, slowly stepping forward to the door, one slow placement of the foot at a time. And thus, a hand rested upon the knob, fingers curling around the brown contraption before he twisted it, hearing it click. The door slowly swung open…


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hang on. It was pitch black. Huh? Findel stepped further inside, his elven eyesight allowing him to seen the room in a lime light. He then almost gasped in shock. This was not the throne room. This was some chamber of some description, not fit for Princess Selene herself but perhaps a maiden. He hurriedly fetched his map, slumping his shoulders over as he squinted. The star, was in fact…The large closet. Right in front of him. Well, fuck. Fuck-fuck fuckity fuck. This just was going swell.

"Who the hell are you?"

Whoa. A voice? Findel went to look over his shoulder, now standing up straight, but some pointy object was pinned between his shoulder blades.

"I said. Who the hell are you?"

That voice. It was so, sweet. So…Tender. Argh, damn it Findel. Concentrate. You have a knife at your back and your life potentially at stake. His ears twitched.

"Won't answer? Hm. Maybe I should slit your throat while we are at it?" That voice. It was tempting him. Findel lowered his head, fringe falling over his eyes as he smirked. All of a sudden, he took a quick step to the right, turning on his heel and fastening his hand around the voice's wrist. Findel yanked whoever it was closer to him, feeling a feminine, slender figure touch his front.

"Do I need to answer?" He tilted his head slightly down at the lady.

Who did this imbecilic elf think he was? Actually, he was pretty cute for some creep. No, more hot than cute. Miriel was both stunned, shocked, and distracted by his unexpected appearance and her violet gaze met up to his dark pools. She felt…shivers being sent down her spine, in both a scared way and…something else? Whatever, he is an intruder, Miriel. What the hell do you think you are doing?

"Unhand me your insolent brat!" She growled, furiously pulling her arm away from him. He had a strong grip though.

"I think not. You were the one to stick a knife at my back." He retorted, and damn it was he immensely attractive. She was beginning to question herself.

"You think not? You are the one who stormed into MY  
ROOM." She stared at him with intensity, and he only stared back at her with the same amount of fearlessness.

"Oh? This is your room?" He kept her there, in his hold, as she tried to struggle away from his clasp. But she gave up soon and panted.

"Let go of me." She demanded.

"No." Was the answer.

"I order you to let go of me!"

"Why would I let you go? And you cannot order me. You are no royal. I am your equal."

He spoke with such confidence, it made her sick. She hated it, hated it enough to love it. Miriel frowned. He was almost as stubborn as she was! And a cocky bastard too.

"So, you share this room with someone?" Findel inquired. The lady scoffed and kicked him in the shins (strangely enough not the balls, maybe he had made progress.) He had not foreseen that, so he fell down to his knees, pulling her down with him. The female elf gasped loudly as she tumbled down too, it seemed she hadn't expected that either.

Oh god. That didn't quite as according to plan. Her fiery locks were covering her face as she slumped in…in his arms? Shit. Holy shit. Miriel looked up, her purple eyes frightened yet those dark orbs of that stranger…they were so calming to her. A crimson colour crossed her face. "I.." She began but shut her mouth. The man pouted, rather cute.

"C'mon, you can tell me."

What?! Tell him? He was a complete stranger, intruder and should be sent straight to the guillotine! But someone refrained Miriel from finishing him off. "Yes I share a room with my fiancée." She said in a rush. That would put him off and his strong advances. If they were advances.

"Oh, your fiancée, hm?" Findel gave her one of his infamous roguish grins, the devilishly handsome rogue leaning in closer to her. He could see her blushing, and he wouldn't deny that his chest began to ache, or was it his heart? "Shame that." His fingers went underneath her chin as he said that, staring deeply into those violet hues of hers, finding himself becoming engulfed in them. "A real shame. He would kill me if he saw me."

She couldn't be quite sure about that. What, Miriel? Of course, Hameristan loved her. Did he? He did. He did, he did, he did. He DID. But…

"…He would." She responded bluntly. Then she snapped her chin away, but did not break away from his embrace. "Wh-why am I telling you this!" She stuttered, and questioned herself more than him. "Yo-you are a stranger and I.."

His hands smoothed over her cheeks, and into her auburn locks as he brought himself closer, enticing her in one of his kisses, meaningful and sweet. Findel found himself melting into her, how events could change indeed! His eyes lazily closed, his lips brushing over her's in gentle caresses. Silence. He had stopped her talking her nonsense. When you felt compelled or inclined to fall for someone, thieving a jewel wasn't nearly as important. Findel's heart was indeed pounding now. He wondered if the woman could hear it. That would be embarrassing. The mission to steal the Jewel was temporarily forgotten.

Miriel wanted to slap him hard. She raised her hand, swinging it with momentum towards his face. Yet, it slowed, and instead her delicate fingers ran into his blonde locks, followed shortly by her other hand which rested upon his chest. Sir Thomas Hameristan was temporarily forgotten too. Miriel couldn't believe the mess she had gotten herself into. It was all his fault. She arched her body up against his, lips receiving and giving him her soft touches. He sent jolts down her spine as he moved his hands down to her waist, pulling her in and she obeyed with no hesitations. She squeaked a little, feeling his tongue slide into her mouth. Oh wow, wow, wow, wow. This sensation, feeling of tenderness and affection. She would die for it. Was he the only one who could give her this, this satisfaction? Miriel! How dare you speak like that! Don't let him take you, don't let him. Hell, you are engaged! And- Oh god. Oh gods. No…loose yourself…

He didn't know her name. Findel pushed her softly down, now bearing himself over her. He breathed his steamy breath against her open mouth, feeling her squirm underneath. Perhaps lust took over? Nay. There was something there. His leg placed itself between her two legs, leaning over her, their bodies centimetres apart. And his forearms placed themselves beside her shoulders, his lips hovering over her mouth as he pulled away. Findel felt his face flush a bright red as her hands smoothed over his shoulders, down his chest and around to his back.

"W-what is your name…?" He hummed a whisper, his hand brushing her cheek lovingly as he looked down at her.

She answered. "Miriel." Ah Miriel. What a beautiful name, he had instantly loved it. "And yours?" She asked back.

"Findel…"

"Ah Findel. Fin…finny…"

The elf went wide eyed at the sound of the nicknames. He dared not to break eye contact as he hands travelled back into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. Findel tensed a little, but relaxed.

"You have gorgeous blonde hair…" Now she really was speaking garbage. What had overcome her? Lust? Love? Boredom? Miriel gazed up at him, smiling. "Fin." His reaction was priceless. He was slowly turning red. Miriel decided she liked that. "…What are you, Findel?"

"I am who I am." The charming male responded, smirking she could see. Oh games, games were fun.

"Funny. You steal hearts often?"

Findel shook his head faintly, lifting a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He seemed to be stunned, like she had been a few moments ago, and now didn't speak again.

"…Because.." She wiggled her hips underneath him on purpose. "…You seem to be quite learned at the art of stealing hearts. What else do you steal?" He still didn't answer. Miriel rolled her eyes. Well, she felt far more compelled to stay close to him right now. Some men really didn't take their chances. Miriel curved her leg around his, biting down on her lower lip with a certain timid air. She then pushed up against him, and he seemed inclined to go with her. They both now sat together, before Miriel touched his chest with one finger and pressed him down so that he was on his back. Her fingers tugged at the laces that held his tunic at his chest.

He was dumbfounded, or at least he felt it when she moved herself in such a tempting way. Ugh. Girls, they were really unbelievable. Hence, why he loved them. He was now leaning back on his forearms, one leg bent, and the other extended. Findel looked up at her with unpredictable eyes. There was something about her. And he could tell she liked that unpredictable notion he had. Findel could feel her hips firmly set upon his, and her twiddling fingers playing with the strings on his black tunic caused his body to tingle. "Mm…" He heard her mutter something. Findel's arms coiled around her mid-drift as she lay down on him a little, his fingers extending over her back, feeling her thin dress she had on.

"It seems I have pulled a few strings." Findel gave her a sly grin, feeling her straddle him.

"Shut up, you silly elf." Miriel's hand gripped around the fabric of his tunic, yanking him up by the chest to give him a passionate kiss, which he eagerly responded to with ease. "I hate you." She murmured.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. Here." Wait. That wasn't her voice, or his. Oh my god…


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Cszeth stepped out of the Miriel's excessively large cupboard, arms full of fabulous female garments only to find some random girl sitting on Findel and…KISSING HIM. Cszeth had the most astonished look upon his face.

"You…her…"

Miriel glared right at the male. "I only allow one man in at a time!" She grumbled, but then giggled adorably which made a smile tug at Findel's mouth. Then, the realisation hit him. Findel abrupt stood up from underneath her, lifting Miriel in his arms. Cszeth stood there, immobile.

"I will return soon." He said to her, his hand reaching for her's. Miriel allowed him to take it, and she felt him squeeze it, and she squeezed his. This was the strangest night she had in a long time. Findel gave her a magical smiled before grabbing the other man's arm tightly and dragging him away swiftly, slamming the door behind them both without looking back.

"You.."

"Be quiet. Let's get on with it."

After they had exited the building and now were outside the palace gates, Findel raised both of his arms in the air in utter annoyance.

"WHAT THE HELL, CSZETH!" Thank god they were out of earshot. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING?! SENDING ME TO THE CHAMBERS OF SOME…SOME…" Findel flustered.

"Some really hot chicka that you totally digged?"

"…YES."

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

"THIS." Findel pointed his finger and raised it sharply at him. "Was your devious plane, WASN'T IT? We WERE SUPPOSED to steal the FUCKING JEWEL."

"You never listen. I thought I'd pay you back. And screw that, you've found something better."

"She's engaged, mate."

"Oh, so you actually care about her?"

"WHAT? I mean…I don't…" Findel silenced himself and paced around in a worried manner.

"Youuuuuu care for her." Cszeth grinned now, glad his work was done. "Now you'll stop being such a cruel bastard to everyone, and actually show your feelings once more."

"Cszeth, you know the reason that I mask my emotional self is because of the job we have. If I was emotional, I would have spared many lives and got nothing done. This is a precaution one must take!" Findel reasoned.

"…Would have fucked many girls too. Wait… that doesn't count."

Findel groaned and slapped his forehead with his hand before letting it slide down his face before his arm dropped limply beside him.

"Findel. I am a fabulous, gay elf. You, are a straight, sexy and caring elf who needs to be who he actually is. Not some badass, arsehole who could get himself killed anytime of the day or night."

"…You…This is because of last time."

"Yes."

"I told you, I burned the ring and threw it away. She never even wanted me, Cszeth! I come home one night, and she's making love to some berserker fucker. And the next day, kaboom! Twins." Findel exclaimed and looked to Cszeth with an uneasy expression. "..I can't love anymore…I've tried…"

"Finny. I know of your difficulties. But you can, and if you really do care for her, you will. Give it a shot…make yourself happy once more."

Findel kicked a stone. He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We'll see."


End file.
